Gemma and Kartik go to 7 11
by LunaEquus
Summary: Libba Bray, on her LiveJournal, joked about Gemma and Kartik going to a Victorian 7 11. This is that idea realized. Hilarity ensues! Please read and review!


**Libba Bray owns the characters. For shizzle. **

**Resubmitted, due to horrible mistakes.**

It is 3 o'clock in the afternoon when I hear the distant chime of church bells. I slump down into my armchair and groan, determined not to let the persistent rumbling of my stomach distract me from the sampler I am working on.

"Gemma, don't slump so. It is not very becoming of a young lady." Grandmama reprimands me. I stab my needle and thread through the eye of the robin I am embroidering and sit up straighter. Emily, the "most congenial" kitchen maid, enters the room.

"Pardon me, miss, but I have a note for you." She hands me a folded piece of parchment and departs. I open it curiously.

_I have a very pressing matter to discuss. Please meet me in the stables as soon as you read this. –Kartik_

Of course. It is Kartik. His "pressing matters" have been getting more and more ridiculous as of late. I suspect he just wants a reason to see me, not that I mind very much. I cast a glance over at Grandmama. She is very engaged in conversation with one of her lady friends that always calls on Sunday afternoons. Which, incidentally, is the most boring and hopeless day of the week, as there is nothing to do other than go to church and work on needlepoint.

Seeing my opportunity for escape, I quietly slip from the room and into the yard. Kartik is perched on a tack box when I enter the barn. He leaps up when he sees me; however, he remains standing on the box.

"Gemma!" he yells as he brandishes a riding crop at me like a sword. "We must go on a mission!" On his head is Tom's velvet hunt cap, and he has secured two pairs of Ginger's splint boots as gauntlets around his forearms and calves. A towel is tied around his neck like a cape. He looks absolutely ridiculous.

"A mission, Kartik? Pray tell, what does this mission entail, O mighty soldier?" I clutch my hands to my chest in mock earnest.

"Ah, m'lady, it seems the king's daughter is bored and hungry! I must rescue her!" He leaps from the tack box, catches me around the waist, and swings me around. Lowering me into position that I have only seen Spanish dancers do at the Opera, he leans over me. "Fair Lady Gemma, would you do me the honor of letting me save you from this Sunday afternoon distress?"

"Oh course, but first you must be knighted. Only then will you be deserving of my um, presence." I push him into a kneeling position at my feet and take the whip from him. I tap him on both shoulders. "Okay, you're knighted." I say, laughing at how silly we are.

"Wow, you're not very good at this, m'lady."

"Shut up, Sir Kartik."

"Anything for you!" He grins at me. "So do you want to hear the plan?"

"Um, I suppose I don't have a choice?"

He stands up and takes off his "armor". "Gemma, do you know of something called a 7-11?"

I stare at him blankly. "No, Kartik, what the devil are you talking about?" I ask.

He closes his eyes as if wounded. "It's only just about the most amazing place to get food, Gemma!"

"Have you ever been there, Kartik?"

He looks at me sheepishly. "Well, no. But I did hear some great things about it and I think we must go."

"Why should we go and buy food when I can just ask our cook to make us something?"

Kartik contemplates this. "Because Circe might be there," he says, running his fingers through his hair.

I stare at him. He really has lost his marbles since betraying the Rakshana. He notices my hesitation.

"What do you say, Gemma? We'll have the best time there, I promise." He holds out his hand to me hopefully.

"I thought you said Circe is there. That doesn't sound very fun, Kartik," I say, taking his hand despite myself. He may be absolutely mad, but it's quite charming.

Kartik is overjoyed. "There's a dear! Let's go, Gemma love!" He tugs me out of the stable and we begin our trek to the center of town.

Kartik keeps glancing at me surreptitiously as we walk in the brisk air.

"Gemma…" he finally says. "What's your favorite…flavor?"

I give him a strange look. "What do you mean by 'flavor'?"

Kartik furrows his brows. "You're not making this very easy, Gemma." A pensive look crosses his face as we wait to cross the street. "Okay – out of these four flavors, pick your favorite and rank the rest in order of preference."

"Why do I have to rank the rest in order of preference?"

He sighs. "Because the machines may not be working properly, Gemma," he says carefully. He looks at me as if I should know this already.

I open my mouth to say something, but instead I choose to play along with him. "Okay, Kartik," I say. "What flavors must I pick from?"

He looks satisfied. "Choose cherry, raspberry, fruit punch, or Coke."

"What is Coke?" I ask curiously.

"It's a flavor."

"I see." I consider my options for a moment. "I suppose I choose cherry first, then fruit punch, then raspberry, and then this Coke stuff. Why do you ask?"

"It's a surprise for m'lady."

And that was that. We talk about random things for the rest of the walk. A particularly interesting conversation about what it's like to wear a corset comes up, and I fear he may want to try one of mine when we return home.

"So what is it, you have to hold on to something stable and then someone just yanks the laces as hard as they can?!"

"You sound excited, Kartik."

"No, that's just so odd! How do you breathe?"

"With great difficulty. Now where did you say this place is? We've been walking for a long time."

"It's close by…" Kartik's eyes light up. "No, wait! It's right there!" He points across the street.

"Where. . .?" I start to say, but then I see it, and wonder how I could ever have missed it. The numbers 7 and 11 shine like a beacon of red, orange, and green. It's quite an eyesore, really.

"Gemma! Come on!" Kartik grabs my wrist and starts running across the street.

"Kartik!" I gasp. "Were we not just talking of how I cannot breathe in a corset?!"

He ignores me and pushes the door open. "After you, m'lady."

I feel vaguely like slapping him, but I would never have the heart to do so. Biting, however…

As we walk inside, we are bombarded with fluorescent lights and freezing air. It is like walking into the Realms for the first time; everywhere I turn there is something else that is wonderful. I stare in awe for awhile at everything around me – all so good, and all so inexpensive.

A sharp poke on my shoulder snaps me from my daze. I turn around to find Kartik holding two curiously colored drinks. He holds out the vivid red one to me, while he attaches his mouth to the lime green straw of the bright blue drink. My straw was purple, which leads me to believe that he has somehow figured out my favorite color as well. I reach out and take the drink from him. The cup is freezing in my hands.

"What is this, Kartik?"

He removes the straw from his mouth long enough to answer. "It's a Slurpee," he says matter-of-factly. Then he goes right back to drinking from that curious straw. I look down at my so-called Slurpee suspiciously. Kartik looks up and notices my apprehension.

"It's alright Gemma; it's cherry like you wanted!"

I look at his drink, wondering what flavor could possibly be attributed with such a violent shade of blue. "What's yours?" I ask.

"Raspberry."

"Kartik, raspberries aren't blue…"

Kartik pulls his straw out through the hole in the clear domed lid. "Look Gemma! It has a spoon at the end!"

So it does. I take a sip of my Slurpee. It's quite excellent! So I tell Kartik, "This is marvelous!"

He smiles at me with the straw held firmly in between his full lips. I turn around to examine a particularly interesting row of colorfully wrapped candies, when suddenly Kartik has me by the wrist again.

"Gemma, look!" he says, his voice muffled, for the straw hasn't moved from his mouth. He pulls me over to a rack of magazines. These are not at all similar to the magazines under Ann's bed. Kartik's eyes widen at the sight of a woman wearing nothing but a pair of antlers and the skimpiest undergarments I've ever seen with the words 'Ho, ho, ho' across her bottom.

I watch as his eyes drift to the word **PLAYBOY** in large type behind the sultry woman's head, and see his expression change from awe to disgust. He turns away quickly.

"I am no boy," he mutters. He wanders off again to nurse his delicate reputation with bubblegum flavored ice cream. I turn back to the rack and pick up a magazine by the name of **Cosmopolitan**. I flip through the glossy pages until I come to a page that reads "Make Him Moan! 13 Sex Techniques that Will Send Your Man over the Edge (and are fun for you too!)".

It is most informative. Now I know how to achieve an orgasm while bent over backwards on a Ferris wheel, though I don't quite know what an orgasm is. Or a Ferris wheel, for that matter. I resolve to ask Kartik later.

I replace the magazine feeling confused and a bit light headed from all the sugar. I walk over to Kartik, who is staring into the freezer that contains all of the ice cream. I frown as I approach him, for he has his mouth wide open and is sticking his tongue out. He looks at me excitedly.

"'Emma 'ook! Eye ung ih oo!!!"

"I can see that your tongue is blue, Kartik."

"Ick ur ung out oo!!!"

Out of curiosity, I oblige. I stand next to him and stick out my tongue to discover that it is bright red. I close it, giggling madly. Kartik follows suit, and soon we are both doubled over, laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. Once we calm down, he helps me to stand up straight again. I notice that in addition to his Slurpee, he has a pint of ice cream, a candy bar, and a large bag of something called Doritos.

I am still wiping tears from my cheeks as Kartik pays for everything. The man that rings up our purchases is Indian, I notice. The man looks at Kartik, sizing him up for a moment.

"What ship are you on, my boy?" he asks bluntly.

I wince at this and glance at Kartik. He looks as if he is going to burst. He inhales and I turn away.

"I AM NOT A BOY!!!" Kartik yells, his cheeks as red as my Slurpee. The cashier blinks, completely unfazed, and hands Kartik his change. As we exit the store, I loop my arm through Kartik's, who is still silently seething, and move in close to him. Like I said before, he may not have all his marbles, but he is loveable.

Kartik looks down at me, all signs of anger wiped from his handsome face. I smile at him what I hope is an attractive smile. However, as the red coloring from my Slurpee had invaded my teeth as well, I doubt it is anything more than silly. My suspicions are confirmed as Kartik returns my red smile with a blue one of his own.

He then surprises me by leaning down and placing a gentle, innocent kiss on my lips. My knees wobble for a moment, but I keep walking straight. We walk in happy silence for the entire trip home.

When we return to the stables, I thank him for introducing me to such an interesting place.

"Anything for my lady!" he replies cheerfully while gulping down the liquid remains of his Slurpee. I am about to leave to get ready for supper when I suddenly remember something.

"Kartik…" I say slowly. "What is an orgasm?"

There is a moment of silence as Kartik stares at me with his mouth full of blue juice. Suddenly he starts coughing and sputtering. Alarmed, I start hitting him on the back as I had once seen my father do to Tom once. His coughing fit eventually stops. He looks up at me weakly and smiles a bit.

"I'll tell you when you're older, Gem."

"Why can't you tell me now?"

"It is not appropriate conversation, Gemma."

My eyes widen as I realize what he was talking about. "Kartik, it has something to do with lying back and thinking of England doesn't it?"

He bursts out laughing and pulls me into a hug. "Oh Gemma, I don't think the person in question would be doing much thinking at all!"

I consider this. "How would you know?"

He buries his face into my shoulder and mumbles something that I can't comprehend. "What was that, Kartik?" I ask innocently.

He lifts his head a bit and looks at me sheepishly. "I said, I _don't _know, Miss Doyle, but maybe one day we'll find out."

"Oh, I see." My eyes widen. "Kartik! Are you implying that we – you and I…"

He smiles and kisses the tip of my nose. "You best be going, Gemma, you wouldn't want to miss your supper."

My face is still red. "Thank you again, Sir Kartik. You have pleased the king."

He grins. "Ah, but have I won the heart of his daughter?"

"Next time, buy me raspberry, and we shall see."

**First AGATB fanfic I have ever finished!**

**To all you bright things out there that read Libba Bray's LiveJournal, you see where this idea came from. I also must give credit to the person who came up with the brilliant idea of Kartik staring at his blue tongue in the freezer window, but sadly, I do not remember who that person was.**

**Oh yeah, and sorry for making Kartik a bit silly. I doubt Mr. Bigshot-Rakshana-Man would ever act that way in public, but hey, he's a teenager too. (And no longer Rakshana!)**

**Until next time!**

**LunaEquus**

**Pleeeeeeeeeeeeease review! I need ideas for a sequel!**


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